Hell is for Children
by Bards of Bedlam
Summary: A look at how Draco Malfoy’s emotions develop during his seven years at Hogwarts and beyond. One-sided slash, HP/DM.


All right, this is a bit different from what I normally write, for two reasons. One reason is that I don't normally write Draco/Harry fics, for my own reasons. The other is that I don't normally write angsty things that don't end on a light note.

But this idea popped into my head and wouldn't let go, so I wrote it to appease the plot bunnies, because I don't so much have plot bunnies, as…plot bunniculas…

So…here goes. Concrit, s'il vous plait!

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_**Hell is for Children**_

"You're going to rot in hell."

He heard the words before he was even old enough to know what they meant. He can remember being a small child and hearing the grown-ups around him say those things and others like them to Mudbloods and blood traitors and anyone who wasn't like themselves.

They all deserved it, of course…the Mudbloods and the blood traitors. He's never thought to question this wisdom.

Then he heard people say it to his parents after they joined the Dark Lord. Those people died, of course—some of them quickly, some of them slowly, but they all died in the end.

He's never questioned that, either.

It is what it is.

XXX

Eleven years old.

He's in Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, waiting impatiently for his robes to be finished so that he can go find his father and start bothering him for a present.

A witch has just started pinning up his robes when another boy walks into the shop. The boy looks pale and nervous, and stutters a bit when Madam Malkin swoops down on him. He dubs the new boy "Green-Eyes" in his head for obvious reasons.

Green-Eyes comes over to stand next to him and he tries to engage him in conversation. Green-Eyes isn't receptive. He isn't deterred, and starts talking about his family and his own superior lifestyle. He offers his opinions and his friendship (for lack of a better word) to the boy. The boy refuses the offer without a second thought and he gives up.

This isn't the end, though.

He's caught.

XXX

Twelve years old.

He and Green-Eyes are still enemies. In fact, he's pretty sure Green-Eyes hates him. He hates Green-Eyes, too. But more than that, he wants Green-Eyes to notice him. And he does.

Hate at first sight. And something else, too.

And it's not going away.

XXX

Thirteen years old.

Green-Eyes keeps making these crazy escapes and wiggling out of all the traps that are laid in front of him. He even saves that moronic gamekeeper from being sacked and somehow he manages to get that barbaric hippogriff to walk free.

He doesn't know how Green-Eyes does it. It even impresses him a little. This, of course, he immediately covers with words of disdain and arrogance.

He's not sure how much longer he can keep this game up.

XXX

Fourteen years old.

There are bigger things than Green-Eyes to worry about now. There are whispers of the Dark Lord's plan to return. It looks like it will happen soon.

But still, he can't ignore the feeling he gets whenever he looks at the one who so occupies his thoughts.

It's definitely not love. It's not even a crush. It's an obsession. Not a happy thought, not a bright spot on a dark horizon. A blinding, nearly overwhelming passion that he just can't seem to shake.

He wishes they could talk… He wants to know the secrets behind those eyes.

XXX

Fifteen years old.

He knows one of the secrets now. Green-Eyes is a fighter. This much he knows for sure.

He's known it for awhile, but it doesn't become completely clear until Green-Eyes refuses to deny the return of the Dark Lord. He even dares to speak the name, something that very few people have the courage to do.

It's blasphemy, of course. He knows this, and he despises Green-Eyes for his audacity.

Despises, and admires him for it.

XXX

Sixteen years old.

He's sworn his allegiance to the Dark Lord.

Before the year's out, he'll have blood on his hands. He isn't sure how he feels about this. The filthy, Mudblood-loving, sorry excuse for a human being deserves it; he knows this. But he isn't prepared to be the one to end a man's life.

He almost wishes Green-Eyes will discover what he's doing and stop him before he's too late. He knows Green-Eyes might even kill him if he has to.

That thought holds a certain appeal.

XXX

Seventeen years old.

He lives and dies for the Dark Lord now, and it's a miracle he even made it to his seventeenth birthday.

It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. None of it was planned. But when a person is marked by the Dark Lord, that person loses all say in what happens to them. He is no different.

He didn't kill the Mudblood-lover.

That won't stop Green-Eyes from killing him.

If Green-Eyes doesn't, the Dark Lord will. He always kills them in the end.

He very nearly hopes for that day now. He thinks it might come soon…

XXX

The war is over.

Very little has changed. His life is still dark. He still has nightmares. He still wonders if the possibility of a better future can exist for him.

He and his parents sit among the celebrations—not exactly celebrating, but not running away, either. They are too exhausted, physically and emotionally, to move. They might be closer as a family now. It's hard to tell for sure.

His eyes are drawn, as always, to the green-eyed, bespectacled, black-haired boy at another table. Green-Eyes laughs with his friends, but the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Who's to say it ever will again?

XXX

Years later, he is still infatuated. He has a family of his own, a child with whom he has continued the Malfoy tradition of truly horrible names. He has a wife. He has a life that years ago he could have only dreamed of.

Yet, across the platform where they stand waiting for the train, he meets the eyes of another man who his standing with his own family, and suddenly he's tumbling head-first into his all-consuming obsession again.

People have always told him that his soul was meant to burn.

He is reminded of those words every time he looks into those bright green eyes….those eyes that pierce and consume and remake him.

And he swears he can taste the brimstone.

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_"**Passion. It lies in all of us, sleeping, waiting, and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir, open its jaws, and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments; the joy of love, the clarity of hatred, and the ecstasy of grief…. It hurts sometimes, more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace; but we would be hollow, empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd truly be dead."**_

_–**Angel, **__**Buffy the Vampire Slayer**_


End file.
